


my body will follow if you hold my mind

by heyitsathrowaway



Series: how does it feel [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, The Worst Relationships, and also out of it., crowdfund the organization an HR department PLEASE, i don't even know how to tag this properly., more violence than is probably appropriate in bed, really does not pay to be a berserker these days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsathrowaway/pseuds/heyitsathrowaway
Summary: The wounds heal well, all things considered: shiny and pink and uninfected. It was never in question that they would scar. Otherwise, what would be the point?





	my body will follow if you hold my mind

**Author's Note:**

> with thanks and blame to danny, as always!!!!

The wounds heal well, all things considered: shiny and pink and uninfected. It was never in question that they would scar. Otherwise, what would be the point?

Ever kind and solicitous, Xemnas informs him that he is free to take a week to recover. 

_Wow, how generous_ , Axel would say, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t, because Saïx doesn’t see him. When would he? He no longer goes to the Gray Area to hand out missions. And Axel hasn’t visited.

By the third day, Saïx has grown restless. He feels like a ghost haunting the halls, traveling by the dark corridors when he can to avoid running into anyone else. He doesn’t want to speak with them. He can’t imagine what explanation Xemnas has given them for his absence, if he’s bothered to give one at all. 

Late that evening, well after most of the Organization is in bed, Saïx returns to his room from the kitchen. The trip reminds him of the short time he and Lea spent as apprentices. Lea was forever dragging him from his room at odd hours to raid the kitchen—he was always hungry in those days. The memory almost makes Saïx smile.

Saïx doesn’t smile anymore. And if he did, it would fall from his face the moment he steps back into his room and finds Xemnas there, idly paging through one of the dusty novels Saïx hasn’t touched in years. It’s not the journal that Saïx keeps under lock and key in his desk, but he stiffens to see Xemnas reading it all the same. 

“Seven,” he says, flipping the book closed and setting it aside. “I came to check on you.”

“I’m well,” Saïx says, an automatic reaction. 

Xemnas beckons him closer with one finger. “I’d like to ascertain that for myself.”

Saïx goes, drawn forward like a fish hooked on a line. He sits down beside Xemnas, and for a disorienting moment feels as though no time has passed at all since he sat here bleeding. When Xemnas tilts Saïx’s face towards his own, it does nothing to dispel the sensation. “They’re healing nicely,” Saïx says, more for something to say than anything else. Xemnas is barely touching him, the pads of his fingers light on Saïx’s jaw, and yet he feels utterly pinned by his gaze. 

Xemnas’s eyes on his face are hungry. “You wear my mark well,” he says, running his thumb just below Saïx’s eye. 

Saïx tries not to, but he can’t help but remember the last time someone touched him like this. It was Lea, the last night before they finally succeeded in joining the ranks of Ansem’s apprentices. On some level, they both knew that they were standing on a precipice. They tumbled over it willingly.

And look where it got them. Lea cupped Isa’s face in his hands like he was something precious, and murmured words against his mouth that don’t mean anything anymore, and all it did was bring them here.

He wonders if Axel has noticed his absence these past few days at all. 

Saïx’s cheek feels like it’s on fire. He snaps back to the present, back to this room, as Xemnas digs his thumbnail in against the edge of where the scar will be. Xemnas runs his fingernail up along the line of the cut, an expression of idle curiosity on his face. Saïx can’t stop the broken noise he makes. He’s only grateful that he doesn’t scream. 

“I hope your mind isn’t wandering,” Xemnas says. Saïx really wasn’t paying attention: he doesn’t know when Xemnas got this close. Their noses brush, and Saïx only just has the presence of mind to pull himself out of Xemnas’s grip, slapping his hand away. His face stings unbearably, but when he runs his fingers across his nose, he doesn’t feel any blood. 

“It won’t happen again,” Saïx says. “Sir.” He wants to order Xemnas out of his room. He can’t. Of course he can’t. 

“See that it doesn’t.” Xemnas reaches out again. Saïx has to force himself to hold steady, but he only wipes away the single tear that’s escaped to run down Saïx’s cheek. 

He leaves without further incident. Saïx, feeling like a marionette whose pupeteer has abandoned it, slumps back down against the bed. His face throbs, and there is a growing ache behind his eyes. He drapes his arm over them, and thinks about calling Lea a crybaby, over and over and over again. Of the marks he drew on Axel’s cheeks, concentrated and careful, the first few nights they spent in this castle. It didn’t make him happy to see them; he doesn’t feel happy anymore. But it was satisfying to know that he put them there. It still is. So perhaps he and Xemnas are no different.

Sick with himself, Saïx hopes they’ve brought Axel better luck than any of this has brought him.

-

It’s another two days before he sees Axel. Saïx has been avoiding him, though he ventures out into the common spaces more and more often. He’s cultivated an imposing enough reputation that whatever comments are being made about his new scars are being kept behind his back. Saïx can’t say that he minds.

Saïx returns to the Gray Area a few days early—there is only so much time he can spend pacing around his room, and every time he tries to open one of his books, he can only wonder if Xemnas looked through this one too. After long enough, the curious eyes of the rest of the Organization seem like a better option.

He thought, too, that Axel would avoid making a scene in public; this was foolish of him. Axel has never had any aversion to making a scene. 

“Hey, Saïx,” Axel says when he walks in, dropping his feet down from where they were propped up on the table. “Took you long enough!” He looks up, grinning the way he still insists on doing. His face freezes.

Saïx thought that it would be easier to see Axel again with a delay. He was wrong. The extra time has only allowed him to get used to it, the tight pull of his skin when he closes his eyes too tightly or makes the mistake of furrowing his brow. He let himself forget what a shock the sight of him would be.

“I’ve been—” Incapacitated, is what Saïx is going to say. But Axel talks over him.

“What _happened_ to you?” He stands, his boots loud on the floor. The room around them has gone completely quiet. 

“ _Nothing_ ,” Saïx hisses, senselessly—obviously something _happened_ —but Xigbar is staring at them with a raised eyebrow, and Larxene and Marluxia have their heads bent together, already beginning to gossip. “Come here.” He takes Axel by the elbow and drags him into one of the adjoining hallways, hoping to at least make the others work for it if they wish to eavesdrop.

Axel shrugs out of his grip. “Geez, will you cool it? Seriously, what happened?”

“It’s none of your concern.” 

“Like hell it isn’t,” Axel says. “You disappear for a few days, and Xemnas tells everyone you’re out on some super secret mission—as if you ever go on missions like the rest of us grunts—and you come back looking like—” He falters, fumbling for words.

Saïx’s expression darkens; he knows because it hurts. “Like what, Axel?”

“I don’t know,” Axel says, voice suddenly serious. “Like something—or someone—decided to treat you like their own personal art project.”

Saïx has his lie prepared. The heartless can be unexpectedly vicious at times. He’s even willing to admit to having gotten cocky, to having underestimated his opponent, which should please Axel. But when he opens his mouth, no sound comes out. 

“Saïx. Tell me it was some scary monster that you put in the ground.” Axel reaches out, moving slowly. His thumb brushes against Saïx’s cheek, against the scar, soft and gentle. The way that Lea treated Isa, once, a long time ago. 

But he can’t hold that memory in his mind. Axel’s touch is nothing at all like the way Xemnas touched him, but that’s all that Saïx can think about. His eyes burn. He takes Axel’s wrist and wrenches it away. “Don’t.”

Axel stares at him. He lets his wrist hang in Saïx’s hand. “Okay,” he says, that same concern in his voice—as if he can truly feel concerned about anything at all, let alone Saïx. “Okay, geez, I’m sorry. But you’ve gotta tell me what happened.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” What would he gain by doing so? Axel’s anger at Xemnas, which will gain them and their plans nothing. Axel’s ire at Saïx, which will be a waste of both of their time. And he might insist on touching Saïx again, on cupping his face and fussing over the marks. Saïx lets Axel go, turning away. 

“Wait,” Axel says, “Isa, your _eyes_ —”

“That’s not my name,” Saïx says coldy. “It hasn’t been for a long time. I think it’s time we stopped pretending to be anyone but who we are.”

“Fine,” Axel says. “Fine, if that’s how you feel—”

“I don’t feel anything, and neither do you.”

Axel throws his hands up. “Were you always this impossible?” he demands. “Whatever. I’m out of here.” He stalks away, but stops just before turning the corner. “Listen,” he says. “You know you can talk to me about anything, all right? Whatever you need, I’m here for you. That hasn’t changed.”

Axel always was too optimistic for his own good. Saïx can tell he really believes it.

Saïx shakes his head and doesn’t answer.

-

Things return to what passes for normal in the Castle That Never Was. Saïx hands out missions. He deflects Axel’s overtures of concern until eventually they stop coming. His life is as tolerable as it’s ever been, since he became a Nobody. He’s no closer to finding who he’s looking for, but all he ever seems to have these days is time. Xemnas trusts him now. It will all be worth it. It has to be.

This time, Saïx is already in his room when Xemnas comes for him. He doesn’t bother to knock. He opens a corridor and steps out, joining Saïx on the bed without invitation as if he owns the place. It isn’t an incorrect assumption. 

Xemnas goes through the motions of checking Saïx over again. Saïx isn’t sure why he bothers; they both know he just wants an excuse to put his hands all over what’s his. 

He doesn’t pull away this time. Not when Xemnas takes hold of his chin, not when he runs his fingers over the scars, not when he drags Saïx forward and bites his lip. Saïx lets him. Saïx kisses him back, and is only grateful that this, at least, is nothing like it ever was with Lea. Lea’s kisses were the only quiet thing about him. Xemnas kisses him like he wants to devour him whole.

It’s better not to think about Lea, or Axel, or anyone but Xemnas, his hand sliding beneath Saïx’s coat and between his legs. Saïx buries his face in his shoulder. He lets Xemnas hear him moan. He digs his nails into Xemnas’s back and his thigh, wishing he could draw blood. There’s no point in pretending to be anything other than what he is. 

Saïx bites down at Xemnas’s neck, and feels his laughter between his teeth. 

Xemnas runs his hand through Saïx’s hair after, the touch more possessive than tender. Tenderness from a Nobody—the trembling way that Axel touched his cheek—would only be a farce, anyway. A mockery of affection. 

It’s calming, in its own way. It leaves Saïx with the sense of being entirely controlled. While that may not be a pleasant sensation, it is at least a stable one. So much has slipped through his fingers. At least now, his grip cannot loosen any further. 

“There has been dissent among our ranks as of late. Have you noticed?”

It takes a moment for Saïx to understand that he is being addressed, and that an answer is required. He moves to lift his head from Xemnas’s shoulder, only to have it pressed back down with a firm hand. “No more than usual,” he says. His voice comes out hoarse. “There will always be some amount of grumbling.”

“From the weaker members, perhaps.” Xemnas’s fingernails dig into Saïx’s scalp. He shivers. He appreciates it; the touch serves to keep him focused on the conversation. “I think that perhaps Castle Oblivion might help us cull the herd somewhat.” 

Even as scattered as he feels, Saïx remembers that Castle Oblivion is important. There is _something_ there that Xemnas wants. A something that might be a someone. “I would be happy to supervise such an excursion.”

“No,” Xemnas says. “You’re far too valuable to risk. I think Axel would serve us well as an agent in this regard.” He pulls Saïx’s head back by the hair so that he can look him in the eyes. “If he doesn’t make it back, it would be no great loss.”

He’s doing this on purpose. He wants to gauge Saïx’s reaction. He’s playing with him just as surely as he was when he put a knife to Saïx’s skin and dared him to close his eyes. Saïx isn’t an idiot. He understands this. But the knowledge does nothing to stop the rage that courses through him all at once, white hot and sickening, strong enough that Saïx lurches out of Xemnas’s grip. 

“Axel has his uses,” Saïx says, as measured a response as he can manage, but it doesn’t help: Xemnas shakes his head, a look of practiced sorrow on his face. 

“I’m afraid I can’t agree with your assessment,” he says. “Axel will have to be disposed of one way or another before this is all over. I hope I can trust you to do what needs to be done.”

 _Do what you have to_ , Lea whispered in his ear, back when they were boys trying to talk their way into the castle. _Let’s just get this done, whatever it takes_ , Axel said a few months ago as they pored over maps of the Castle That Never Was, his tone utterly weary. Saïx is a man of his word in all things, a man who follows through on a course once he is committed, but there are some things that cannot be borne. 

His tenuous grip on control snaps, and he grabs for Xemnas with no obvious end goal in sight. A rational man would know better than to try to throttle the Organization’s leader in his bed; Saïx is only a rational man until the moment that he isn’t. He lunges. Xemnas catches him easily about the shoulders. 

Saïx can’t think past the anger. He wants nothing more than to crush Xemnas, to destroy everything he’s built, to burn this castle to the ground. The things he cares about are mere shadows in the face of his rage: Kingdom Hearts, the girl he lost, even Axel. All of them are too distant to see.

Xemnas twists, and carries Saïx’s own momentum with him, slamming him into the ground. The impact is enough to jolt the thought of Axel back to the surface, a thousand memories of play-fights in the Radiant Garden square. And then it’s useless to try to do anything but attack Xemnas again. His hands reach out to summon his claymore, itching for its reassuring weight. Once he has that, nothing can stop him. 

Maybe this is the way that Xemnas most differs from Axel: he never seems fazed by anything. The calm veneer of his features never once slips. A man too blinded by rage to see straight is no match for him. Xemnas catches Saïx by the wrists before he can summon anything, and he plants a knee in his stomach, knocking him back down. He presses Saïx’s wrists to the ground in one hand, and pins him by the throat with the other.

Saïx struggles, snarling, but Xemnas hardly reacts. He bears down, grinding the bones of Saïx’s wrists together, fingers squeezing his throat, until Saïx can’t pull against him anymore. He’s too busy fighting to breathe. 

He goes limp in Xemnas’s hands, vision clearing. The fury leaves him all at once, his limbs suddenly shaky in its absence. It always feels like this afterwards, everything heightened and strange, as though he’s floating through the world instead of walking in it.

Xemnas loosens his grip. Not fully, but enough to allow Saïx to gasp for air. “Good boy,” he says, and the part of Saïx that would bristle at that is gone. There’s no point in pretending that Xemnas hasn’t proven his point. If Xemnas wants a dog, he’ll have a dog: but leave Axel out of it. 

He rubs his thumb roughly against Saïx’s throat before he lets him go, brushing the hair from his face instead. A delicate touch this time. As if it matters. “Well?”

Saïx closes his eyes. “I’ll do what is necessary,” he says. That hasn’t changed.

“Good,” Xemnas says, sliding his hand to the back of Saïx’s head. He grips him by the hair and stands, yanking Saïx up with him. Saïx goes, stumbling, falling against him once he finds his feet.

Xemnas traces cool fingers along his neck where the bruises must be forming. Saïx should care about that; the coat isn’t going to hide them. He doesn’t. Those, at least, will fade. 

Saïx swallows and sucks in a breath. He feels a little dizzy, like Xemnas is his only tether, the only thing keeping him from falling entirely to pieces. He knows that was the point. That doesn’t make it any less true. Xemnas smiles, taking him by the nape of his neck. The world comes into focus. “Kneel,” Xemnas says, tone no different than it was when he held the knife. 

Saïx obeys, like always.


End file.
